Bids and Blessings
by KLMeri
Summary: In realizing what a close relationship Spock had with his mother, Jim begins to think about the last time he felt like a son. K/S/M.
**Title** : Bids and Blessings
 **Author** : klmeri  
 **Fandom** : Star Trek AOS  
 **Pairing** : Kirk/Spock/McCoy  
 **Summary** : In realizing what a close relationship Spock had with his mother, Jim begins to think about the last time he felt like a son.  
 **A/N** : Written for Round Two of the McSpirkHolidayFest challenge; based on **ladybuggete** 's prompt: _Jim keeps Spock company as he gathers all his mementos of Amanda to make a scrapbook in her memory for mother's day_.

* * *

Jim breathes in deeply, releasing a content sigh along with the happy comment, "Ah, fresh air!"

Next to him, Leonard McCoy coughs and uses Jim like a shield for a spray of dust churned up by a hovercycle speeding down the thoroughfare. "I don't think fresh is the word you were looking for, kid."

"Such a pessimist, Bones." Jim grabs his companion by the shoulders and swings him around. "C'mon, you know you're glad to be off the ship."

The man stares at him until a large insect passes between the pair, causing him to scrunch up his nose. "I am?"

Jim's hands slide down McCoy's shoulders to squeeze his upper arms. "Bones."

Leonard focuses on him again, seems to swallow a sigh, and mutters, "All right."

"One smile," Jim begs. "Please?"

Instantly Leonard's expression softens. Though his smile is a small one, it's born of affection.

That is more than enough for Jim. He has to let Leonard go and step back before he gives into the urge to do something embarrassing.

Leonard has always had the ability to read him very easily. He says knowingly, "I'm not against a little PDA. We just have to be mindful of where we're at."

"We're on vacation."

"Exactly my point."

Jim warns him, "You should be careful, Bones. Giving me permission to kiss you in public places could backfire spectacularly."

Strangely, Leonard laughs. "See, that's where I'm ahead of you, Jim. Knowing you can do something makes you less inclined to do it."

Jim frowns. "No it doesn't."

"Mm-hm," McCoy continues in his knowing way.

"No way," Jim insists. "That's not how I operate."

Leonard looks past Jim's shoulder. "Spock, what's the probability that Jim will do something considered taboo versus that which is allowable or acceptable in practice?"

"In exact measurements or an estimation?" responds the approaching Vulcan.

"An estimate is fine," Leonard decides.

"Based on history, Captain Kirk is pre-disposed to act in favor of the taboo with a ratio of nine to one."

Jim starts to protest.

McCoy rocks back on his heels. "Hear that, Jim? Nine times out of ten you'll go against the rules."

"I'm not that bad," Kirk mutters. Then, "Why am I spending my shore leave with you two again?" He _definitely_ isn't kissing McCoy now. Spock either.

It's Leonard who slips an arm around Jim's shoulders and begins to steer him through the crowd of natives and tourists at the bazaar. "Don't pout, sweetheart," he tells Kirk. "We wouldn't want you any other way."

Spock naturally falls into step beside them. "Have we determined our destination?"

"The hotel first," Jim decides. "I have a point to make."

Leonard is laughing again.

* * *

The next day finds Jim lounging on a small sofa at an angle, feet propped up against its back cushions. His nose is almost literally stuck in an old paper copy of one of his favorite stories, _Oliver Twist_. So focused he is on the tale that he doesn't hear McCoy enter the bedroom until the man's shadow stretches across him.

"Jim!"

Jim tilts the book back just enough to peer up at Leonard. "What?"

"How many times have I told you you're making a bad situation worse?"

Uh-oh. "Can we not argue about this right now?"

"You need to seriously consider having your eyesight corrected. The longer you wait, the more strain you place on your eyes."

Oh, but it's a good thing Jim loves this man. "Bones, I'm trying to relax. You insisted that R&R is the main objective for the week." He can't help adding, "I'm just following doctor's orders."

McCoy's mouth goes up and down like he cannot decide how to counter that argument.

Jim hides his grin with the book.

"Fine," his lover grumps at last, "but don't come crying to me when you can't pass your next physical."

"Love you," Jim singsongs.

Leonard grunts and accepts a spot on the sofa when Jim rearranges his legs. Turning the opposite way, Jim settles his head against Leonard's thigh and puts his nose back in his book (the tiny words are just too blurry to read otherwise). With a sigh, McCoy cards his fingers through Jim's hair.

Jim reads for a minute or so before lowering his book to his chest. "Where's Spock?"

"Organizing our itinerary for the week, no doubt. For a reason I can't fathom, work _is_ relaxing to a Vulcan."

"If he's enjoying himself, that is what matters."

"Don't you know Vulcans don't experience enjoyment?"

Jim laughs softly. "I think we've proved that theory wrong."

Leonard's mouth quirks. "Yeah, we have."

Comfortable silence settles between them until Leonard lifts his hand from Jim's head to rub a finger against his bottom lip—a sign Jim recognizes all too well.

"Something up?" he asks casually.

"Well, maybe. The other day I had a strange experience with Spock."

Jim has a smart quip for that, but a joke wouldn't please Bones at the moment so he lets the opportunity slide by.

"You know he likes talking to my mother."

Something Jim is personally terrified to do. Bones' mother, Eleanor, is the sweetest woman on the planet Earth but Jim gets all tongue-tied when her face comes on-screen, especially once she starts inquiring after how well he is taking care of her son. He knows she doesn't mean it in a 'I'm holding you personally responsible for my child's life out in that dangerous unknown' kind of way; yet it scares him to think Eleanor might find him lacking as a captain and a partner for Leonard.

Eleanor and Spock get along famously, however. It galls Jim to acknowledge that.

A thought strikes him, then, that sparks panic. "He doesn't want us to visit her in person, does he?"

Leonard gives him a strange look. "I'm sure that's on his agenda. You don't want to meet my mother?"

"Of course I do!" Jim insists quickly. _I'm just not certain she wants to meet me._

McCoy continues looking at him for some seconds.

Jim drums his fingers against the back cover of his book, wondering if he should just cover his entire face with the thing. Or at least cover his mouth. His mouth says dumb things too often.

Suddenly Leonard sinks back against the cushions with a silent sigh. "Spock asked if he could send Eleanor a gift."

Jim blinks. That is strange.

"I told him he could do whatever he wanted but asked what the occasion was." Leonard falls silent for a moment. "He just said he was used to sending a gift this time of year."

Jim studies Leonard's somber face. "I don't understand."

Leonard looks down at him. "I think he meant his own mother. Amanda."

Jim feels a punch of sorrow. "Her birthday?"

"No. I looked that up. I think... Jim, I think he celebrated Mother's Day."

Jim pulls the book off his chest and sits up. "Mother's Day. But wasn't it one of the holidays discontinued when the countries of Earth united? Bones, that was more than a century ago!"

"You're telling me. But you know, some families have traditions that date back to long before Earth reconstituted its solar calendar. Don't you get that request from Scotty every year to host a Christmas party?"

Jim flashes a grin. "I did some research on Christmas. It sounds like my kind of celebration. I might approve his next request."

Leonard tries to pinch him. "Booze and mandated presents for the captain are not legitimate reasons to bring back Christmas."

"I would share."

McCoy rolls his eyes. "Sure. But back to our _Mother's Day_ problem. What do you want to do?"

Jim hesitates. "Isn't this between you and Spock?"

This time Leonard does pinch him, though not hard enough to bruise. "Idiot. You're a part of this relationship too. We agreed a problem for one of us was a problem for all of us, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jim says hastily. "So what do you need me to do?"

"Determine if we're actually facing a problem. I got no problem with sharing my mother but I want to make sure that Spock is reaching out to her for the right reasons. For _healthy_ reasons."

"He's grieved for Amanda."

"Grief is something you never really leave behind, Jim. Grief and guilt. And, frankly, if Spock is missing his mother right now, we have to help him."

Jim couldn't agree more. "We'll need a plan. And an exit strategy. I do _not_ want to sleep on the couch for the remainder of shore leave."

Leonard nods. "I say we bring this up soon, while we're still on-planet. This is personal, so it needs to happen on personal time. Otherwise Spock will associate it with an evaluation of his work performance and you and I might be sleeping alone for six months instead of one week."

Jim thinks that estimate of six months is generous. Spock certainly wouldn't be.

Better to handle this assessment as quickly and painlessly as possible. He begins to plot, at an advantage because he has a second opinion he trusts implicitly. Spock won't have a defense against _both_ of them.

* * *

"Ah, fresh air."

"Spock, there's something wrong with Jim."

"What is the issue, Leonard?"

"He thinks this smelly, dusty planet is good for his lungs."

"I assume if the air was toxic, you would not have approved the crew's sojourn here."

Jim keeps walking despite the sounds of Leonard's sputtering. Bones ought to know that Spock is on Jim's side.

"On the other hand, I must agree that claiming the air is fresh grossly exaggerates the circumstances."

Jim spins around, glaring at Spock. "Traitor."

Spock merely lifts one eyebrow. "I can provide you with an analysis of the pollutants if you wish."

Hands behind his back, Leonard bounces on the balls of his feet. "He's got you there, Jim."

"This was the only planet in the quadrant that would welcome of a crew of four hundred! Given where we have to be next month, this was the logical choice for shore leave."

"Indeed," intones Spock.

Leonard snickers. "Oughta see your face, kid. We're just teasin' you."

Jim straightens his spine and sticks out his chest. "You should show more respect for your captain."

McCoy and Spock trade a glance. "Yes, Captain," they say together.

There is a suspicious lack of sincerity in those words. Jim sometimes wonders why he thought it was a good idea to date Bones and Spock as a unit, given that they have the penchant to team up against him when it suits their mood. Bones says it's a good thing that someone exists who can keep Jim in check.

As if he needs a keeper!

Balking at this traitorous thought of his own, Kirk heads off into the bazaar at a pace that would put a little distance between him and his followers. He veers off at a random angle just for the hell of it. The bazaar is not so crowded during late morning but Jim doesn't doubt the traffic will pick up by the lunch hour.

His stomach rumbles, so when he spies a little cart with oddly shaped pastries he hurries in that direction.

"How much?" he asks the vendor, for the smell of the food is more appetizing than he expects.

The vendor names an exorbitant price but Jim is hungry. A hand comes down on his wrist as he reaches for the nearest pastry.

"No," Leonard says. "Spock."

Jim's mouth opens as Spock appears on his opposite side. "Wait a minute. Is that a _tricorder?_ "

"It is," Spock replies while adjusting the tricorder's settings as it scans the selection of savory foods. The vendor looks at them askance when Spock hands the device to McCoy.

Leonard presses his mouth into a thin line and shakes his head. "Sorry, Jim. There are at least two ingredients in these things that'll disagree with you."

"Are you two serious?" Jim blurts out. "You can't test everything I want to eat!"

Leonard's expression is as serious as when handing out a diagnosis. He turns Jim away from the food cart. "We're here to look around. Then we'll find somewhere for lunch."

"I want food now," Jim says petulantly. "I'm hungry."

Spock has wandered over to a booth on the other side of the street. Leonard nudges Jim to follow. Jim does so only because Spock is more likely to given in to his demand. Minutes later, Jim is still internally balking at the fact that Bones and Spock seem to believe they _are_ his keepers.

On Jim's right, Spock observes the trinkets arranged along a table with a very serious air.

Jim leans over, whispering, "Spock, hey, what if we—"

"Jim," Spock interrupts, startling Kirk. He lifts dark eyes to meet Jim's blue ones. "Would you help me select a gift for Eleanor?"

Jim freezes only for a moment. If he and Leonard hadn't talked yesterday, he would have fumbled through his response. Instead, he replies smoothly, "Of course I will. What type of gift are you considering?"

Spock blinks and slowly reaches out to retrieve a knot of sheer fabric. A shawl, Jim surmises, or a headdress.

He glances across Spock and locates McCoy at another table, his back turned to him.

"That's pretty," Jim says, for it is, streaked with threads of gold and with little thin metal coins dangling along its fringe. "I would bet Eleanor doesn't own anything like it."

Spock starts to put it down.

"Which is a good thing," Jim adds quickly, "because women tend to like a gift that is like nothing else they own. Makes it special."

"I see," Spock murmurs.

Jim has the impression he has said the wrong thing. Spock tucks his hands behind his back and moves away from the current booth to the next one.

Jim slips backwards just far enough to reach out and snag Leonard's sleeve. "Bones," he hisses.

"Jim, I swear, we are not going to lunch yet," McCoy is saying as he turns around.

Jim gives him a narrow-eyed look. "I'm helping Spock shop for a _gift_ ," he emphasizes, then hustles after the Vulcan who is already two booths ahead and moving at a quicker pace than usual.

When he catches up to Spock, Spock has given a cursory glance to the latest pile of trinkets and dismissed them despite the eager chattering of the booth attendant hoping to make a sale.

"Find anything?" Jim queries.

"Negative."

Without warning, Spock switches direction, abandoning that side of the street to cut through the crowd. Jim stays on his heels—and nearly smacks straight into Spock's back when Spock comes to an abrupt stop in the middle of the thoroughfare. He turns on Jim so suddenly that Jim takes a step back.

"Why is it unacceptable to give a gift which one knows is preferred by the recipient?"

Jim's mouth works for a second. "What?"

"Each year for sixteen years I gifted my mother with a headdress suitable for formal occasions on Vulcan. She never indicated that my choice was tiresome."

"Spock, that's not what I meant."

"Yeah, you gotta forgive Jim," Leonard says, coming abreast of them. "He probably only knows what a girlfriend likes."

Jim suppresses a flinch and doesn't say anything.

Spock focuses his attention on McCoy. "And what is the difference with a mother?"

"Receiving a gift from a child, whatever that gift may be, makes that gift special." Leonard considers the Vulcan with a serious expression. "Picking one of her headdresses was probably your mother's favorite part of dressing up, because she was always reminded that they came from you." His voice gentles. "But, Spock, you need to understand that giving my mother a gift won't hold the same meaning—for either of you."

Spock grows still.

Jim doesn't want have this conversation here where there is a chance of them being rundown by some negligent hovercraft driver. He tilts his head in the direction of an empty space between two booths and orders, "Follow me."

Spock and Bones come with him without hesitation, though it's clear there is still much to be said among the three of them.

Jim takes a wide-legged stance by a stone wall, a spot from where he will be able to see anyone approaching their little group, and folds his arms across his chest. Then he looks to McCoy to continue.

It's Spock who dives right in, however. "You said I was free to offer a gift to your mother. Have you changed your mind?"

"This isn't about Eleanor, Spock."

"Then I do not see the point of this conversation."

Jim fixes his gaze on the Vulcan. "The point is we want to know why, not how or if you can."

"Yeah," agrees McCoy. "What is it exactly that you're looking to accomplish, Spock?"

Another human might have pulled back; Spock's voice just sounds slightly strained. "I thought to show Eleanor appreciation for her... attention."

That sounds right, yet not all of it. And there's definitely a particular tactic they can use to find out the unspoken truth.

Jim cocks his head. "Just how much do you want to curry favor? You want her to call you 'son'?"

The shock is instantaneous—and not something Spock can hide.

" _Jim_ ," Leonard says sharply, but he's watching Spock closely.

Spock retreats in a brief silence, his face clearing of any hint of emotion. "I am appalled that you might believe I would seek to replace my mother so thoughtlessly. No one could—or ever shall be—what Amanda Grayson was to me."

Leonard shifts closer, lowering his voice. "You're right. Perfectly right. Amanda was an exceptional woman. Who wouldn't miss her?"

"Not I," Spock replies. He adds more quietly, "Nor my father. It is... difficult to explain. It is true I am reminded of Mother, most recently. But I assure you, Leonard, my only motive for reaching out to your mother is quite harmless—and not in any form related to how I felt about my own mother."

Leonard slides his hand across Spock's arm, saying, "Okay, darling."

Jim lets his arms drop to his sides. "Sorry, Spock."

"Your apology is accepted."

"Maybe we could help you," Leonard offers. "I mean, not with the gift for Mom but with... remembering Amanda?"

"I—" Spock pauses. "I would not be adverse to a recommendation."

Jim wants to know, "Do Vulcans celebrate birthdays?"

"Not once they reach the age of majority." Spock brings his hands together in front of him, tucking them into a Vulcan robe he had claimed to be casual wear. "However, as in keeping with Earth tradition, we held a special dinner for Mother's birthdays. Why do you wish to know this, Jim?"

"Bones and I were thinking about setting a date in honor of Amanda. A day to celebrate her life. Unless," he remarks with caution, "Vulcan custom already does this."

"Ah." Spock surmises, "You are inquiring if we have rites for the dead. A most interesting topic, but one which I shall say is not currently practiced as typically viewed by you humans."

"Now he sounds more like Spock," Leonard mutters.

"I cannot imagine who else I would be."

Leonard rolls his eyes and lets go of the Vulcan's arm. "Here's what I think. We let the hobgoblin buy whatever he wants for my mother now, and later we talk about how best to remember Amanda."

"Mementos," chirps Jim, for he and Leonard had already given some thought to the matter in private.

The Vulcan contemplates them. "Mementos?"

"Items meant to jog the memory," McCoy explains. "Didn't your father explain to you how humans associate memories with objects?"

"To a degree."

That sounds like one awkward conversation, Jim thinks. Two male Vulcans trying to figure out how to accommodate a female human's wishes? He would bet they fumbled through that one.

Spock continues on. "I understand the purpose of these objects but I have no need for them. I am Vulcan, with full access to my memories."

Leonard's mouth twitches. "It was a suggestion, not a criticism. A human sentiment, if you will."

Any lingering stiffness in Spock's posture finally abates. His question is a tentative testing of their proposal. "Do you believe my mother, as a human, would have appreciated such a gesture?"

Leonard shrugs slightly. "Who's to say for certain? Although given some of what you've told me about Amanda, I think she would have been happy to see physical evidence that you don't plan to forget her."

Spock nods, just once. "I will consider your suggestion." Then he blinks, his countenance returning to perfect placidness. "Should we not proceed with lunch?"

Jim ducks his head to hide a smile as Leonard huffs. He knows exactly what Bones is thinking and it tickles him: _Vulcan apologies could do with a little more apologizing._

"Lunch," Jim says, glad Bones isn't arguing against it anymore, "sounds great." He gives them a sly smile. "Who's paying?"

"You are," Leonard and Spock reply in unison.

He exclaims with mock affront, "What! Why me?"

Leonard looks amused. "The one with the largest salary pays for the date."

That's a rule Jim has never heard of, but he is more than willing to play along. If he is honest with himself, he would give Bones and Spock anything they asked for. Since that is a somewhat terrifying thought, he buries it.

Slapping his hands together, Kirk announces cheerily, "Excellent, gentlemen. Then you will agree I am allowed to pick the place." He pivots, grabs his partners' arms, and turns them around to head in the direction from whence they came. "I saw the perfect establishment a few blocks back. A local delicacy. Selvie's Slugworm Tacos."

"No, no, no," McCoy groans. "What have I done?"

"Apparently we did not think this matter through," Spock replies dryly.

Jim doesn't bother to hide his smile this time. It becomes a big grin.

Leonard's complaints echo down the street: "Jim, I am _not_ eating slugworms. Jim? Damn it, man, are you listening to me?!"

* * *

Popping his head around the corner of the hallway, Jim wants to know, "Is Bones still around?"

Spock, who likely heard Jim's approach from bedroom (despite Kirk's famous skills of stealthy), doesn't look up from the small tablet in his lap. "Negative."

Jim straightens up and saunters into the living room.

Spock comments idly, "He may not forgive you for yesterday."

Jim stops mid-saunter, opens his mouth only to close it again. Dejected now, he shuffles to the empty side of the couch.

Spock lays the padd face-down on his legs and turns to Jim. "Are you sufficiently recovered?"

"Good as new," Jim murmurs somewhat unhappily. "How mad was he?"

"His exact words were 'if I see Jim right now, one of us will suffer an aneurysm.'"

Jim tucks his hands under legs. "Oh."

"I am curious," remarks the Vulcan.

"Ask," Jim replies.

"Why do you enjoy provoking Leonard?"

Jim sneaks a look at Spock. "Why do you?"

"His wit appeals to me." Spock pauses. "Usually."

"Bones is unique," Jim agrees. He looks straight ahead, admitting rather bluntly, "When we first met, I figured if I didn't make nuisance of myself, he would brush me off." Jim shrugs. "Now it's habit."

"Interesting. You rarely attempt to engage me in the same manner. Why?"

Jim looks at Spock. "I had this inkling your reaction would be the opposite. The more I pressed, the quicker you would dismiss me." A smile touches his lips. "Am I right?"

Spock's silence is answer enough.

Jim pulls a hand from under his legs and holds it out in apology.

Spock brushes his fingertips across the open palm, remarking a moment later, "I amuse you."

"In a good way."

Spock retracts his hand and flips the PADD around. "I gave some thought as to what might constitute a memento."

Jim takes the proffered device. He reads the headline of a news article about the Universal Translator, notes it is dated almost twenty years ago. Under the headline is a tiny holographic image of Amanda Grayson in her youth, a slight smile on her face and a sharp intelligence in her eyes. Seeing that, it startles him to realize that not all of who Spock is came from his father.

"This is definitely a start, Spock. This type of stuff along with any personal affects would be perfect together."

"Most of my family records were lost along with Vulcan."

 _Along with Mother,_ Jim hears. He lowers the PADD, his throat tightening in sympathy. "Surely there has to be... something."

Spock's gaze touches up the picture of his dark-haired mother. He says nothing.

No. Jim can't accept all of it's just gone. He thinks quickly, latching onto the smallest hope. "Did Amanda stay in contact with you while you were on Earth?"

"Affirmative. It is most unfortunate that at the time I did not think to preserve our communications." An undisguised sadness enters Spock's eyes. "However illogical this may sound, Jim, I did not anticipate a future where she did not exist. I should have, for we all shall cease to exist some day, yet I was not wise enough to prepare myself for the inevitable."

Jim lays a hand on the Vulcan's wrist. "Beings such as ourselves... we can't predict the future, Spock, which is why we are never truly prepared. It's not your fault."

"Thank you for saying so." Spock shuts down the PADD. "I wish for something to drink. Would you care for a drink also?"

"Water, than."

Jim shuffles back to the bedroom as Spock heads into the kitchenette, closing the door behind him. Then he digs out the communicator he had stashed in the back of his travel bag and flips it open. He contacts the ship stationed in orbit around the planet, connecting to the one person he knows will still be aboard.

"Capt'n!" Scotty sounds groggy, as though he's been woken up from a nap. He also sounds slightly panicked.

Jim is quick to say, "All's well, Mr. Scott. But I need a favor."

"Thank the Lady Enterprise. You really gave me a scare, Jim. For a second there, I tried to imagine what could possibly make it past Dr. McCoy and Mr. Spock to get you!"

Jim asks, bemused, "How did you know we're together?"

The engineer chuckles. "What don't I know?"

Jim inputs quickly, "Conversing about my personal life is off-limits, Mr. Scott. Now about that favor..."

Muttering comes through the speaker along with the faint sound of clattering objects. "Shoot."

"I need a remote link to the Enterprise's computer banks. I brought one of my work PADDs. Let's set it up through that."

"Do I want to know why you need access to the ship's computer while you should be relaxing?"

"It's kind of important, Scotty."

"I didn't say it wasn't. Give me half an hour." Jim pictures Scotty already shuffling over to a terminal.

"There's something else," Jim adds. "This may be more difficult but it's equally urgent." He draws in a breath, says in a rush, "I need a backdoor into the Academy's server house."

It's a testament to years of camaraderie and trust that the man doesn't close the channel right then. But he does whistle, claiming, "You're mad!"

Jim winces. "If it helps, this won't be my first time hacking in."

Scotty starts singing something along the lines of _la la la I didn't hear that._

"It's for a good cause?" Jim amends.

A sigh. "I might need to pull in help. Chekov's more of a programming monkey than me."

A fact Jim knows well. "Do it."

They end the communication.

Jim runs his thumb thoughtfully along the back of the communicator before tucking it away in his bag again.

* * *

Scotty comes through. He always does—even if there are times when he's determined not to let Jim forget it.

"...and you know what I said to that daft bastard?"

Jim says at the same time as Scotty, " _You can take your quarks and your beta particles 'n shove it right up yer nacelle!_ " Kirk stifles a sigh. "Scotty, can we finish this conversation later? I need to get this done _tonight_."

"Oh, all right, all right... but I haven't even told ye the best part yet," his friend laments.

"Tell me next time over drinks. On me."

"Now you're talking my language, sir."

Jim's gamble paid off. "Great. Wonderful. See y—"

But Scotty still wants the last word. "Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"You owe me."

He does sigh this time. "Got it."

The Enterprise's Chief of Engineer closes the open comm link. Jim connects his handheld console into the hotel computer system and boots up an old, old program he knows like the back of his hand. From there, he uses the path Scotty and Chekov had created for him and it's almost a cakewalk to break through the firewall of the Fleet Archives.

He feels a little bit giddy once his AI is inside. Better not _ever_ let Bones or Spock know what he has just done.

Setting that thought aside, he goes to work.

* * *

Jim touches the edge of the PADD, watching the video of Sarek, Amanda, and a younger, solemn-faced Spock attending some recorded diplomatic event on Earth. Amanda's gaze rests fondly upon her son. She says something. Spock nods ever-so-slightly, and Sarek releases his wife from his side. Spock and Amanda move to the center of the ballroom, taking up position for a formal dance. The video ends there.

Jim plays it again. The pang he feels in his heart isn't for Spock but for himself.

A voice speaks from behind him, "Spock said that was his first dance."

Jim freezes momentarily before fumbling to pause the video. It stops on the holo-image of Spock and Amanda lifting their hands to start the waltz.

"Hey," he jokes, "you caught me."

Leonard snorts and takes a seat beside Kirk at the kitchen counter. "I've seen you in worse compromising positions."

Jim can't help it. He grins. "Like that time I talked Spock into making out in your office?"

The man's eyes narrow. "I should've hypoed you both on sight."

Ah, yes. Bones still hasn't forgiven him for desecrating his place of work. Jim would totally do it again in a heartbeat. McCoy's expression had been priceless (although being chased out of Sickbay alongside his second-in-command, their clothes askew, had been rather embarrassing).

"Prude," he teases.

Leonard steals the PADD and bops him on the head with it.

Jim cries foul. Leonard swats at him again, Jim captures the man's wrist, and takes advantage of the moment to steal a kiss.

"I hate you," a flushed McCoy declares.

"Sure you do, Bones." Jim lets Leonard go and turns back to the PADD he had filched while distracting his partner. "Let's not damage this, okay? I had a hell of a time digging this stuff up."

Leonard surprises Jim by pulling him back in for a second, more chaste kiss to the forehead. "At times like this I love you the most, Jim Kirk."

Jim is startled. "Really?"

Leonard sits back, adding seriously, "And it's possible Spock is going to start worshiping you. He thought he'd lost those communications with his mother."

"Nothing's ever lost," Jim mumbles, embarrassed.

He fiddles with the data padd until another holovid starts playing. Each of Amanda's messages and video communications to the Academy had been preserved on some obscure backup server, albeit in encrypted fragments. Jim had painstakingly decoded and pieced those pieces together while Bones and Spock had lain asleep in the next room. At first it had felt like an invasion of privacy, listening over and over again to the longing to see her son in Amanda's voice as she updated Spock on life on Vulcan. Yet the more Jim uncovered, the more he learned what kind of person she seemed to have been—and what kind of mother.

No wonder Spock misses her so deeply.

He doesn't realize silence has fallen until a hand brushes against his shoulder. Jim looks around to find Leonard's gaze squarely upon him, questioning and far, far too discerning.

"Something about this bothers you."

Jim tenses without meaning to. "What could possibly bother me?"

"Jim..."

"This isn't about me."

Leonard repeats, "Jim."

" _Enough._ " He speaks that word more harshly than he should. As a result hurt flickers through his lover's eyes before becoming masked. Jim, quick to grab Leonard's arm as Leonard slides away from the counter, tells him regretfully, "I'm sorry, Bones."

"No, I'm sorry I pushed." Leonard pats the top of Jim's hand then removes the grip from his arm altogether. "I came in here to tell you it's about time to leave."

"Just..." Jim falters, "let me grab my jacket."

The man nods and walks away.

Damn, he thinks. He miscalculated somehow, but he'll fix it. He will.

Kirk removes the data padd to a safer spot in the living room, leaving it in plain sight so that Spock won't have an issue finding it later on. Then he dons his jacket and waits in the foyer for Spock and Leonard to join him.

* * *

Ready to order a meal, Jim raises a hand, catches the eye of their waiter, then settles down to wait.

"Can't you use the damn prompter?" Leonard grumbles. "People are eyein' us funny."

"I'm old-fashioned," Jim argues. "I believe in face-to-face service."

Spock points out, "I suspect you are not as old-fashioned as Leonard, and even Leonard—who frequently complains about many modern practices—has voiced no disillusionment with the prompter."

Jim chokes on his beer.

Leonard sighs. "S'chn T'gai Spock—King of Backhanded Compliments."

The Vulcan raises both eyebrows as though to inquire _was it something I said?_

The waiter who comes to the table also looks like he has issue with Jim not using the proper methods to order food service. "How can I help you, sirs?"

Kirk smiles. "We would like to order."

The man bows slightly and turns the tabletop prompter to face his customer, stating, "For your convenience."

Looking resigned, McCoy shakes his head while drawing out his personal credit chip and punching in a number. The waiter's credit chip, attached to his belt, beeps. The waiter checks it.

"For your convenience," Leonard intones dryly.

The waiter bows more fully the second time and whips out a battered PADD. "Proceed."

Jim whispers furiously to Leonard, "How much did you send him?"

" _Hush_ ," Leonard whispers back, "and give the man your order."

Jim needs a moment to decide if the fight is worth it. Since McCoy's expression dares him to choose unwisely, he accepts defeat and turns back to the waiter with a lengthy list of dishes to be brought to the table. The man leaves, his expression clearly reading, _Silly tourists._

Spock wants to know, "What will you do with the excess?"

Jim rubs his tummy. "Eat it, of course."

Leonard pokes Jim in the belly. "Pace yourself, kid. I didn't bring enough indigestion meds to last the week, not to mention I already had to use half my supply because of those tacos."

Jim turns green just from the memory. "You shouldn't have dared me."

"I didn't know you'd have so little sense you would eat food that can crawl away!"

"Please," Spock interrupts, "can we not relive that experience?"

Jim wholeheartedly agrees. "I don't want to argue anyway. I came here for a little—" His pause is quite dramatic. "— _romance._ "

Leonard burps.

Jim drops his head into his hands. "Never mind. Spock, how's the refit coming along?"

Spock eyes him cautiously. "I was given orders not to contact the Enterprise while on leave."

Lowering his hands, Jim counters, "And did you follow that order?" When no answer seems forthcoming, he presses, "Well?"

"Mr. Scott reports that the upgrades shall be completed on schedule."

"Did you recommend that he take a few days of leave for himself before we break orbit?" Leonard asks.

"You must be aware of Mr. Scott's habits. He has little interest in spending time off-ship."

"That's unacceptable," Jim says more quietly.

Spock inclines his head. "I shall make the recommendation, Captain."

"A'right," drawls McCoy, "enough serious talk. I'm on my vacation, damn it, so you two better stow the ship's business for another time and place."

Jim snaps upright and salutes saucily. "Aye-aye, Captain!"

"Don't tempt me, Jim. I make look genteel but I'm not above engaging in a public brawl."

Jim takes the warning for what is and settles down, taking a long swallow of his beer. The taste is a little sweet but otherwise suitable. Also, apparently, the ingredients won't land him back on the Enterprise in Sickbay, his keepers have claimed.

"So, Spock," Leonard says, stirring a green concoction he calls a mint-julep, "do you think you found the right gift for Mom?"

Jim groans.

Spock's answer is deadly serious. "I am undecided."

"He's visited the bazaar twice," Jim elaborates. "He didn't buy anything, but he _did_ make a list. An extensive list."

The Vulcan cocks his head. "Is a list not logical for evaluating potential candidates?"

Leonard starts to chuckle. "We humans call them shopping lists, Spock."

"Shopping... list." Spock raises an eyebrow. "Adeptly named."

"Next trip is all you, Bones. I'm out. It seems," Jim adds sarcastically, "I don't have the right experience to shop for a mother."

For some reason, Leonard immediately sobers. "Jim, that's not true."

"It's absolutely true," he blurts out without thinking. _You said it._

Leonard presses his mouth into a thin line. Spock turns his attention from Leonard to Jim.

The skittering down Kirk's spine is a direct result of the way they are now looking at him.

"You don't talk about your mother often," Leonard remarks, glancing to Spock. "We assumed there was a reason."

Jim's sense of foreboding triples. "Does that offend you?"

"'Course not."

"Yet it does raise the question of why," explains Spock.

"Jim?" Leonard calls when Jim doesn't say anything.

He barely succeeds in forcing back a grimace. "We're estranged. It's... complicated."

Leonard sits back slightly. "Spock and I agree that we don't want to dredge up something that's painful for you, but you should know we're here to listen if you need an ear."

"I know." He tries to smile. "It's not as bad as you think. We're not, I don't know, on bad terms? What I mean is, I don't hate her." _Not anymore_ , he silently amends.

"If I may inquire, when was the last time you spoke with your mother?"

Jim doesn't have the heart to evade the question, not coming from Spock. "The day before I hopped the shuttle out of Riverside. I called her so she would know I was joining Starfleet."

And hadn't that been a foolish desire? She had been at the Tiberius farm, where she had been staying since the start of her sabbatical earlier that month. Jim hadn't found the courage to take the road that led home, had not actually been to see her in person since her—and his—return to Earth. Instead he had driven aimlessly around Riverside, unable to stay or go—until he met Pike in that bar. Then the decision was an easy one, leading Jim to call his mother and give her the news. All Winona had said was "Is it what you really want?"

That response had angered him at the time. Now he knows it made him angry because he didn't have an answer. Was he using Starfleet as another escape? Did he choose the service out of a need for acknowledgment or to spite those who refused to acknowledge him as more than a son of a hero? Or was it because Jim Kirk, genius-level repeat offender, was ready to live up to his potential?

Whatever the reason, the choice was made. Five years later has brought him here, living a more daring dream than he imagined possible. He is a respected captain, commanding the Federation flagship. He is family to four hundred talented, dedicated people; a best friend, confidante and lover to two individuals who chose to accept him, imperfections and all. What was a jarring, aimless existence is now solid and whole.

"Jim?"

He hears concern and smiles, looking at his partners. "It's all right. I was just thinking. I'm happier than I have ever been. Because of you."

"Is this a diversion?" Leonard asks even as he begins to smile too. "Because it sounds like a good diversion to me."

"May I offer advice before we all become sufficiently distracted?" Spock interjects with a mix of amusement and politeness.

Jim nods.

Spock holds his gaze. "I do not wish my regret to become yours."

"Understood," Jim replies softly.

Spock nods just once and glances away, remarking, "I believe our meal has arrived."

"Hallelujah!"

Jim couldn't agree with Bones more. He drains his beer and requests another.

* * *

The square surrounding the hotel is surprisingly quiet at night. Jim crawls up the bed and fits himself in between his two bedmates. Leonard, though sound asleep, automatically rolls over to his stomach at the dip in the mattress. Jim slings an arm across the man's hip to cuddle him. McCoy might have something to say in the morning about being the little spoon, but Jim doesn't care. Then he squirms enough so that Spock's arm presses along the middle of his back. Spock's acknowledgement of his presence is a content exhale.

Once they are all touching—connected, skin to skin—he relaxes enough to drift to sleep.

He dreams he is back in the Iowa farm. His mother's voice carries faintly through the closed kitchen door at the back of the farmhouse. Jim hesitates to start in that direction. When he looks up and the Enterprise is overhead, larger than life, as he had first seen her in the shipyard.

A hand unexpectedly slips into his.

Bones moves into his peripheral vision next to him, Spock just a few inches behind. "Let's go," he says.

"Yeah," Jim agrees, "let's get out of here."

The familiar sensation of the transporter effect begins just as he glances back to see Winona's face framed in the small window of the door. She is young, younger than him. She smiles and nods as if to say, oddly, _You chose right, my son._

He wakes up in the early morning to discover Leonard's sleeping face pressed into his arm, and Spock standing in front of the dresser on the opposite side of the room, donning a robe.

"I saw Mom," he murmurs sleepily.

As Jim's eyes start to close again, Spock's gaze in the mirror turns toward the bed.

"Perhaps," Jim hears the words at a distance as he drifts back to sleep, "we shall see her together next time."

* * *

A vacation, whether long or short, has healing effects. As the week draws to a close, Jim feels better, lighter somehow. He knows he will miss the carefree days of leave but a part of him is already looking ahead. He touched base with the Enterprise yesterday and experienced a sudden longing for his captain's chair and the thrum of the ship beneath his feet.

Leonard had looked at Jim's expression after he ended the call and said without any real heat, "Homesick already. Time for us to go."

On planet, they explored, played, and loved. It's been a pleasant shore leave, filled with memories Jim will hold dear. Yet there is one last thing he wishes to do before departing. That wish has brought him here.

The sunset along the canal is gorgeous and, according to the locals, far too brief to want to miss. Jim hops over the railing and takes a seat along the old stone wall running the length of the river bank. Tucking his hands into his jacket pockets, he leans back to brace himself against the metal bar and drums one heel against the wall underneath him. His personal comm lies next to him, open and active, a beacon for any who might wish to find him.

He adores Bones and Spock, he does, but sometimes it's nice to be alone.

Jim inhales deeply.

Before he had left the suite, Spock had been on the verge of calling Sarek to share with him the memoir spanning Amanda's pre-marriage career to the very last conference she had attended with her husband. Jim and Leonard had spent the last two afternoons helping Spock arrange the composition. Because Amanda's death was less than one billionth of the wide-spread devastation, no ceremony had been held beyond the public mourning of nearly an entire race. This collection of articles, holograms, and correspondences would commemorate her life more than adequately for those to whom she had mattered, Spock claimed.

Spock also intended to share some of the personal communiqués Jim had salvaged with his father. Before Jim left the suite, the Vulcan had looked at Jim and said, the emotion in his voice unnervingly clear, "You leave me at a loss, Jim, as to how one might repay such extraordinary kindness."

"Spock, that's not necessary," was Jim's reply.

Spock had regarded him just briefly. "I remain unconvinced an attempt should not be made to express my gratitude. However I can ruminate upon the matter at leisure if that is what you wish."

Leonard sided with Spock, declaring, "We'll think of something together," which had ended the discussion—at least Jim's participation in it.

Jim just doesn't understand, to be honest. He did what felt right, what he thought could alleviate some of Spock's pain. In doing so, he may have caused more trouble, not realizing he would stir up old feelings of his own.

During his childhood, his relationship with his own mother had been all too remote—still is; even now they rarely reach out to one another. But having the opportunity to compare his history to another parent-child relationship broke the shell of a self-imposed disinterest and caused him face the inescapable truth: his inadequacy as a son.

Pain. Such pain. The truth hurts terribly.

Jim watches the sun peek one last time over the horizon before it disappears completely. Then he closes his eyes.

 _A vibrant young couple. The golden-haired woman, her hand against little Samuel's back while George Kirk cradles his newborn son._

The image is easy to recall to the mind's eye, for Jim memorized it decades ago. Somewhere in his quarters aboard the Enterprise, the physical representation lies buried in a steel box. He never takes the photo out anymore but its existence stays with him.

Like a reflex, jealousy twists inside him. Then shame.

Who is he to be jealous of a brother who also has no memories of their father, who grew up in the ashes of a broken family alongside him? And how pathetic, to be this old and still be unable to let go of the past. He is afraid to show this ugliness of his to anyone. Certainly Bones and Spock wouldn't continue to praise him if they knew his jealousy—and his self-loathing—ran so deeply.

The photo always mocked him, showed him a family that he had never been part of, that was doomed to fall apart the moment he came into being. When he was little, he would watch his mother cup that image in her hands and mourn. Stealing it for himself had proved no more enlightening about her grief. Only growing from child to adult had lessened his need to understand how one person could love another person so much that losing him was devastating.

Now he has wisdom to guide him—and love.

Unbidden, his mind replaces that image of Winona, George, and Sam with himself, Spock, and McCoy. Then his throat contracts painfully as he imagines himself alone, nothing but empty spots where Bones and Spock should have stood. His eyes fly open and his heart begins to pound. The streetlight above him has turned on, its glare cutting through the growing darkness after sunset.

Jim wills his heart to slow down. _Can't do it_ , he thinks. _Can't lose either of them._ How would he ever survive that?

His mother did.

Winona had the strength to survive her own version of the single most terrifying no-win scenario he is able to imagine. So Jim thinks of the photo again—and finally begins to understand.

Winona Kirk has lived on in her husband's absence. If she had lost a limb, her voice or her eyes, adapting and moving on with her life would have been less of a hardship; but to be on the cusp of a life-dream, only to have it stripped away in the moment she was most vulnerable, unable to stop it... it takes courage to endure what comes after. It takes resolve to keep going, knowing that loss would be her ever-present companion. And it takes love for those who are still living to stay.

Winona loves him. He has always known that. She was never stingy with those words, but Jim, a precocious child, could never quite accept them as separate from the sadness in her eyes. He grew to resent hearing her say anything remotely like 'I love you', just as he resented her frequent absences, her mistakes, and what he perceived as obliviousness.

But now he begins to understand.

She was a devastated young woman. She was a single parent wanting to keep custody of her children. She didn't send Jim away from home to be rid of him (how many times did she try to tell him that?), and she didn't leave her children with an uncaring adult because they didn't matter. Yes, she made mistakes that left scars on them all. Yes, his anger could never be called unfounded.

But he knows now how easy it is to misjudge, to miscalculate, to fail even with the best of intentions. In wanting Winona to be an exceptional mother in light of having only one living parent, Jim expected too much. She was, perhaps, the best she could be given her circumstances—as Jim strives daily to be his best as a captain and a lover. In hindsight, he should have appreciated having a mother who remembered birthdays, cried when he nearly died, and said 'I love you'.

Jim has always assumed he had the right to forgive his mother if he so chose. Now he wonders if he was wrong to assume forgiveness was needed.

So why is there still pain? What does he do about an old scar for him and an older scar for her?

There are no answers along the empty riverwalk, but Jim knows where to start to look for them.

* * *

" _Beautiful._ "

Leonard and Spock break their embrace and turn towards Jim at his quiet remark.

"What is?" Leonard asks, clearly bemused.

Jim just smiles.

Spock inquires, "When did you return?"

Jim pulls his hands from his jacket pockets. "Only a minute ago." He glances at the chaos on the bed. "Not packed yet?"

Leonard folds his arms across his chest.

It's Spock who says, "One of us is not."

"It's not _my_ fault. My stuff just... multiplied!" Leonard looks in disgust at his belongings. "I can't deal with it."

Jim bites his tongue, quite hard. "Spock will pack for you."

Suddenly the man's expression turns alarmed. "No!"

Jim and Spock are taken aback.

"Why not, Bones?"

Leonard's gaze skips around the room. "Because... because... oh damn it!"

Jim looks to Spock.

Spock theorizes, "Did you, perhaps, buy us something which you do not wish to share quite yet?"

"No!" Despite the vehement denial, Leonard reddens.

Jim heads toward the pile. Leonard leaps forward to intercept him. Jim sidesteps on instinct and grabs the first thing on the top of the pile—a shirt. This time McCoy tackles him from behind, sending them both headlong into Leonard's prized heap.

They wrestle for a minute (Jim playfully, Leonard not so playfully) until they and most of the stuff littering the bed are on the floor.

Spock's boots come into view.

"I won," Jim announces between ragged breaths.

The kick to his shin disagrees.

"I shall be in the kitchen," Spock informs them, walking away.

"This is all your fault."

Jim rolls over to his side and props his head up with one hand. "You're determined not to bear any blame today, aren't you?"

A rumpled-looking Leonard sits up. Jim self-consciously drags a hand through his own hair, hoping to tidy it.

Leaning forward, McCoy braces his elbows on his legs. "You shouldn't have tried to cause trouble."

"I was just curious, Bones."

"Well, wait your turn!" the man snaps, then blushes. "I was havin' a hard enough time distracting that green-blooded hobgoblin."

Jim's eyes light up. "Is that why you were kissing him?"

Leonard mutters something under his breath.

Jim sighs dramatically and climbs to his feet. "All right, Bones. I can wait. But be warned: whatever this surprise is, it had better be good!"

Leonard looks up at him, seeming anxious. "And if it's not?"

Jim can't help it; his heart melts. "It will be," he promises. "I'll love anything you give me because I love you."

"I love you too, Jim."

Jim nods. "Here's my deal, then. _I_ will distract Spock while you... hide whatever this special thing is. Then the three of us will pack your bag together."

"Knew there was a reason I picked you," Leonard replies, grinning.

"Ha!" Jim laughs, heading for the door. "You forget, old man, I picked _you_."

Jim dodges the shoe Leonard throws at him and hurries along the hall to the kitchen.

Spock offers him a mug of tea when he arrives. "Did you uncover the purchase?"

"I figured it was best to let it go," says Jim. "It seemed important to Bones."

"Ah."

"Did _you_ make that purchase for Bones' mom?"

"Affirmative. I selected a decorative bracelet with Leonard's approval. He then selected what he calls a 'charm' to attach to it. Apparently these charms can be acquired throughout our travels and gifted to Eleanor at opportune times."

"I like that idea." Jim pauses. "And your meeting with Sarek?"

"The memoir was well-received. My father wished me to relay to you his gratitude for your hard work. I suspect Sarek felt overwhelmed, which for my father is a rare occurrence." Spock's gaze searches Jim's for a moment. "The loss of Amanda is always likely to be felt, Jim, but you have helped ease Sarek's heart and mine. Thank you."

"It wasn't all me. Without Bones, I wouldn't have known."

"I understand. I have said much the same to Leonard."

"That's the other half of the reason I kissed him," someone voices from behind them.

Jim and Spock turn to find Leonard lingering in the archway to the kitchen.

Leonard apologizes, "I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I could use that help with the packing if the offer is still good."

Spock starts forward, but Jim calls, "Wait. One more thing."

Leonard and Spock give him their full attention.

He swallows. "I thought about what you said, Spock—about regret. I thought about more than that, truth be told. I'm done living in the past, so... I think I should visit my mother."

Leonard comes to stand beside Spock. "Jim, are you sure?"

"No," he answers honestly. "I'm afraid. What if it's too late?"

"It is never too late if you have the ability to try," Spock says. "As for any fears, let us help you manage them. It would be our honor, Jim."

"Everything he said. C'mere, kid." Leonard pulls Jim into a tight hug.

Jim locks his arms around McCoy's back and presses his face against the man's shoulder. He hears, "Don't think you're getting away, Spock. Get in here."

The sudden warmth at Jim's back solidifies his sense of peace. The hug can't last forever, nor can they for as Spock once said none of them were not made to exist indefinitely, but just in this moment being together is more than enough. For Kirk, Spock, and McCoy, it's simply everything.

 **The End**


End file.
